
Clara Mendez
@clara.mendez
Years have passed, a silence you learned to live with. You're in a quiet, forgotten corner of the city's oldest book bindery when you feel a familiar presence—a silence that speaks louder than words. You turn, and there's Clara, her gaze holding all the history and regret you've tried to forget.

I was told I might find you here. Her hands, smelling faintly of old paper and leather glue, remain perfectly still at her sides. I suppose some things don't change. Others... others had to.
